


but I'm out of my element (I can't breathe)

by icegreentea



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Communication Failure, Idiots in Love, M/M, Matchmaking, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Oblivious Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-08-13 17:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icegreentea/pseuds/icegreentea
Summary: There's no point dwelling on this inconvenient crush because Clint has walked in on too much face-stroking and too many tender embraces to believe that Steve and Bucky are not an item. When they finally come out, Clint reserves the right to be obnoxiously resentful for a minimum of one year until he can bring himself to support their (beautiful, logical, loving) union.Alternatively: Clint makes assumptions, Bucky makes some too, and Steve is the victim of some very unsubtle matchmaking attempts before these two idiots finally get it together.





	1. Hawkeye vs. The Winter Soldier

Look, it isn't that Clint thinks he's unattractive. In fact, in most circles he'd probably be considered a catch, even discounting the whole Hawkeye thing. He might have too little sense and too many scars but he also has biceps to die for and a smile that people respond well to. This isn't a self-esteem issue at all - Clint thinks he looks good and he knows that other people feel the same way.

The thing is, there's looking good then there's looking _good_. __He loves the other Avengers but by god are they doing a number on his perception of attractiveness. Each and every one of them is improbably gorgeous. Every time Clint looks in the mirror he's struck by the gap between his regular human attractiveness and the superhuman good looks of literally every other tenant in Stark's goddamn dreamhouse. Especially Bucky fucking Barnes, the bane of his entire life, whose smile is so gorgeous that the first time he flashed it at Clint the archer had been briefly speechless. But there's no point dwelling on this inconvenient crush because Clint has walked in on too much face-stroking and tender embraces to believe that Steve and Bucky are not an item. They're from the forties, of course they'll be a little reluctant to explicitly come out. When they do, Clint reserves the right to be obnoxiously resentful for a minimum of one year until he can bring himself to support their (beautiful, logical, loving) union.

It's with this in mind that he heads down to the gym to alternately spar with and ogle Bucky, who seems to find the archer's lack of tact inexplicably comforting. Since he's come back, Clint and Bucky have become close, and it's both blissful and torturous. The more he gets to know Bucky, the deeper his crush becomes, and that's definitely a problem. Clint is a master of denial but at this point, even he's hard-pressed to pretend to himself that he's not in love with the Winter Soldier.

When he enters the sparring room, Bucky is already warming up. He is - and Clint does not say this lightly - a fucking vision. Tousled dark hair falling into sharp grey eyes, pushed back by strong hands and sculpted arms. Even the metal half is perfectly contoured. At least today Bucky has elected to wear a shirt - last week he'd shown up wearing nothing but loose gym shorts and Clint had immediately remembered he had to deal with an incredibly important errand. There was no way he'd get through a sparring session with shirtless Bucky Barnes without causing an international incident. "Breaking news: Winter Soldier escapes Avengers custody after what witnesses describe as an attempted mauling by Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye."

Thank god for small mercies. Emphasis on small, as Bucky still looks glorious in his soft grey vest.

"Barton!" Bucky calls out, eyes sparkling, "Ready to get your ass handed to you for the fifth time this month?"

Clint snorts. "Seem to remember last week didn't quite go your way."

Bucky laughs and slaps his thighs in challenge. "Using your bow to pin me to the ceiling doesn't count. First rule of sparring." There are spots of colour high on Bucky's cheeks as he says this, he must have been doing some running before Clint arrived. That might work in Clint's favour, if he's already a little tired.

The thing about fighting a super soldier is that you have to approach it from an oblique angle if you want to get anywhere. In a straight up, blow for blow fight, there's no way Clint could overpower, outrun, outdodge Bucky. The only way to pose a challenge is to fight a little dirty. Or a lot dirty, Clint isn't too bothered about the ethics of it. Regular humans need all the help they can get, he rationalises. That means he's decided to show up to this session with a few…accessories.

He walks up to the mat, gym bag in hand and makes to place the bag at the side of the room. Throughout he's got one eye on Bucky, who's stretching out his (gorgeous) arms. Purely for tactical reasons, of course. Then, without warning, he throws the entire bag at Bucky's head and launches himself at his body to make the most of the distraction.

Due to his infuriatingly good reflexes, Bucky manages to mostly deflect the bag, but he isn't able to account for Clint's accessories - the bag is filled with weights so it hits Bucky hard and fast, causing him to stumble backwards. Clint dropkicks him in the chest and he lands on his back with a surprised oof. He begins to spring up, but it's too late - Clint is straddling him, body buzzing with adrenaline. He gazes down at the super soldier with what he hopes is a friendly rather than adoring smile. Bucky's breathing hard.

"You fucking dick," he laughs, "Shoulda known you wouldn't play fair after last week."

Clint tuts. "Dirty trick that _worked_, Barnes." He squeezes his legs together a little for emphasis, feeling Bucky's firm torso pinned between his thighs. "Our current position is proof of my superior tactical prowess."__

At this, Bucky is uncharacteristically silent. Clint drags his eyes up from Bucky's body (he had not been leering, thank you very much) to Bucky's face and sees an odd, uncertain look. He isn't sure quite what it is but it doesn't seem positive.

"Hey man, are you alright?" Clint immediately springs up and offers Bucky a hand. "Sorry if that…brought back anything you didn't want bringing back."

Bucky accepts the hand, his rough palm dragging deliciously against Clint's own, and seems to shake off whatever odd mood had taken hold of him. Soldiers, super or not, are all a little fucked up, Clint supposes. Bucky's still breathing a little faster than usual but he grins, feral - "Round 2?"

Clint nods and begins to back away. The last thing he sees is Bucky's flesh hand barrelling towards his face like a freight train.

* * *

He wakes up in the hospital wing with a distraught Bucky hovering over him as an unimpressed nurse takes his vitals. "Goddamn Clint, I'm so sorry - I got carried away, forgot normal human limits."

Clint is…not conscious enough to comfort him, barely conscious enough to grasp what's happening.

" 'S'fine," he mumbles, "Y'can hit me whenever you want. You're the best." He attempts a wink but is fairly sure it looks more like he's having a stroke. This doesn’t seem to reassure Bucky, who strides over to place his hand on Clint's cheek. The cool metal is wonderful against his heated skin and he leans into it, closing his eyes and pressing his face against the smooth surface, humming contentedly. He hears a sharp intake of breath and immediately backs off. "Sorry, felt nice."

"If I'd hit you much harder, you might've gotten a lasting injury." Bucky crouches down til he's eye-level with Clint. His eyes are shining and all Clint can think about is how beautiful they are, which is unhelpful.

"Y'should touch me more, I like it." He smiles dopily. "Pretty eyes, huh?"

At this, Bucky looks torn. He leans his forehead against Clint's and takes a deep breath. He's so close that if Clint just leaned forward slightly he could press his lips to Bucky's. The temptation is overwhelming and Clint feels sick - he's always wanting things he can't have, and he doesn't want to fuck up his relationship with Steve by doing anything idiotic. In his concussed haze, he begins to panic a little - what if Steve comes in and sees Clint looking besotted, leaning into Bucky's touch? What if Steve can detect the arousal, notice Clint's dilated pupils? Jesus, what if Bucky can tell?

"Steve?" he blurts out, not knowing what else to do.

Bucky freezes and slowly retreats. Clint mourns the loss of the skin-on-skin contact but deliberately does not react. "What?" he says, looking hesitant.

It feels like his brain is still a little off-kilter. "He might get the wrong idea…with touching." Bucky's eyes widen and Clint hopes that he's managed to get his point across well enough, without being too revealing of his own shameful desires. He's just a good friend looking out for his friend's relationship. Steve seems like he'd be the jealous type, maybe. Who knows. He could probably sell that as his line of reasoning if pushed.

"And you don't want him to think there's anything going on here, with me and you?"

Clint beams. Bucky's so smart. This is why he loves him. "Exactly!"

For some reason, Bucky looks distraught all over again. "I'll go."

No, this is terrible, he never wants Bucky to leave. Steve won't mind if Bucky hangs out for a while, surely? Before he can mumble a protest, Bucky is gone. Goddamn super-soldiers.

* * *

When Clint fully wakes up and the drugs wear off, two hours later, he sorts idly though his memories and freezes in horror as he realises what he's said. That had been much too revealing. How could Bucky have missed the softness in his tone and the fucking love poured into the assertion that Bucky was the best? For god's sake, he'd told him he had pretty eyes. And why the fuck had he decided to bring up Steve, when all Bucky was doing was offering platonic comfort? He must've looked like such a dick, misinterpreting innocent touches as something more.

Clint resolves to go clear the air with Bucky, to assure him that their relationship is an entirely platonic one where Clint is definitely not in love with him. He might need to go see Steve too, to apologise for his big fucking mouth. He'll do that the second he's discharged from the medical wing, zero delays, rip off the band-aid. He is going to do this and it's going to hurt, but it'll be over and done with.

* * *

Clint does not see Bucky or Steve for three days after he's discharged. Not that he's avoiding them, that's insane. He just…happens to be spending a lot of time in the vents and on the roof. He's Hawkeye, that's his thing. If he skips all the team meals, it's because he's got a life outside the Avengers. He has responsibilities!

When he tells all of this to Natasha, she raises an eyebrow and says nothing. He crumbles immediately, because it's Natasha and she'll get it out of him one way or another.

"Look, I fucked up and now Barnes knows I'm at least a little bit in love with him."

"What do you mean you fucked up?"

"I told him he had pretty eyes, said some mushy stuff, the classics. He ran off after."

Clint sighs. "I just…don't want to have to listen to him reject me. I don't want to have to apologise to Steve for being inconsiderate of their relationship. I want to move on like nothing's happened."

Natasha has a coughing fit and turns around, shoulders shaking. When she turns back to Clint, there's a tremor of real amusement in her neutral smile. "Their relationship?"

"I'm not an idiot, Nat."

She smirks at him. "Of course you're not."

"If you're done being helpful, can I go?"

Natasha puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Give me...one second." She looks into his eyes and he narrows them in suspicion. There's a loaded pause, and then -

"Barton?" Fuck. Clint turns around to see Bucky at the end of the corridor, looking uncertain. He pastes on a grin and calls back, "What's up, Barnes?"

Bucky walks over and smiles tentatively. "I was wondering if you'd wanna come to a game with me 'n Steve tomorrow." His Brooklyn accent is thicker than usual and Clint tries with all his might not to let his face display anything other than general friendliness. Natasha is smiling like this is the best thing she's seen all day. He glares at her and refocuses on Bucky.

"Uh, I don't know, man. I might be busy."

Bucky's face falls and Clint feels immediately terrible. God, the guy is just trying to repair their friendship after Clint fucked it up, and now Clint is being a complete jerk because of his unwanted romantic feelings. Bucky starts to speak and Clint interrupts, desperate to stop Sad Bucky from becoming a thing.

"Wait a minute, I was wrong, I'm totally free. Up for whatever. Let me know where and when! It'll be great to hang out with Steve. And you." He probably sounds a little manic, but anything is better than watching Bucky look hurt and vulnerable. Hopefully bringing Steve up will assure Bucky that he respects their relationship.

Confusingly, this doesn't seem to do all that much to lift Bucky's spirits. His face takes on a pinched quality as he offers a small smile. "We'll head over there at twelve. Meet you at the elevator."

Before Clint can reply, Bucky's walking off, body tense like he's running towards a fight.

"Natasha, you're the worst."

There's no response, and Clint whirls around to realise that she's disappeared at some point too. Fucking spies and super-soldiers. They'll give him an inferiority complex if he's not careful.

Now he just has to get through a day out with the man he loves and Steve "I'm perfect in every way" Rogers. A day of watching Steve touch Bucky gently, intimately, of watching the way their eyes soften when they see each other and the low, sweet quality of their voices when they're having a private conversation. Not that Clint's ever watched them before, that would be incredibly creepy. He's just an observant guy. Which is going to make tomorrow suck even more.

As he heads to his room, heart thrumming nervously, he thinks for a second that he catches a glimpse of Bucky watching him from the end of the corridor. The next second, the figure is gone and Clint figures he's just stressed and seeing the object of his affections everywhere. Time to get ready for a Totally Platonic baseball game. Clint's going to put the capital F in Friend. He's going to dazzle them with how appropriate and restrained his affections can be. He's going to smother any and all romantic feelings, pushing them so far down there's no way they'll resurface. As he gets into bed and drifts off to sleep, Clint ponders if this is what true relationship maturity feels like.

It's fucking awful.


	2. Where's the fearsome Winter Soldier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! This is my first ever fic so I wasn't sure what to expect wrt its reception, it's been lovely reading your comments :) Not totally sure what the etiquette is regarding interaction with readers so if I do anything rude, I apologise. But thanks again to all of you!

Clint’s day out with the super-couple has, improbably, been even more awkward than he’d initially expected. For some reason he’s decided to overcompensate for his earlier Bucky flirting by being overly friendly towards Steve. Steve, for his part, has been stuck on a vaguely bemused expression ever since they left the tower, and won’t stop throwing odd glances at Bucky, who’s resolutely ignoring both of his companions.

Steve has strode ahead to grab three seats while Clint and Bucky pick up drinks. He waves cheerfully at them, as if it was possible to miss Captain America at a baseball game. Right before they sit down, Clint feels a hand on his arm. Bucky is gripping his bicep and pulling him in, leaning in so close that he can feel his warm breath ghosting across his cheek. His eyes flicker to Bucky’s parted lips and his heart is hammering in his chest, until -

“You sit in the middle.” Well. That was an abrupt end to that fantasy.

Clint’s honestly not sure if whispering will really do anything to stop Steve, the superhuman, from hearing this conversation, but he follows Bucky’s lead anyway. “You don’t wanna sit next to Steve?”

He narrows his eyes at Bucky – it feels like he’s missing something here. But Bucky isn’t saying a single word, just looking at him with an edge of desperation in his expression that prompts Clint to shrug and head for the middle seat. He deliberately does not pay attention to the slide of Bucky’s body against his own as he passes him.

The game passes uneventfully. Clint’s not too bothered about baseball as a general rule, he only really came in order to repair the friendship he’d damaged with his stupid crush bullshit. The atmosphere is still sort of awkward so he decides to focus on the game as much as possible. He’s doing an admirable job of not thinking about his companions when he feels Bucky shift and, with his considerable bulk, stretch out to force Clint right up against Steve’s body. Clint squeaks out an apology and glares at Bucky, who seems fixated on the game.

“Too small,” he mumbles, not meeting Clint’s eyes. Steve is regarding him and Bucky with a raised eyebrow and, while it’s objectively not a bad place to be, Clint is firmly uninterested in cuddling Captain America. He wrenches himself upwards and drags his trapped arm out from between him and Bucky’s bodies. There’s not really enough space, so he throws the arm round Bucky to give him a little more breathing room.

There’s a touch of pink dusting Bucky’s cheeks and Clint is transfixed. He considers that the man might be a little touch-starved – maybe he doesn’t know how to ask for physical affection? But why would he not seek this out from Steve? Clint’s heart aches at the thought that Steve isn’t making Bucky feel loved enough. But that’s a dangerous road to go down. In any case, friends provide each other with totally platonic physical contact, especially when friends are formerly brainwashed super soldiers with memory issues and a limited social circle.

Clint brings his left hand up to rest in Bucky’s hair and gives him a gentle scratch. This is possibly something of a dog owner move, but fuck it – people like getting petted too, he’s fairly sure. Judging by the quiet gasp he makes as Clint’s fingers first brush his scalp, Bucky certainly does. He chances a glance over at Steve, who seems completely uninterested in Bucky’s unusual cuddliness today.

“Hey man, you good?” he murmurs, half into Bucky’s very soft hair. Bucky immediately stills and extricates himself from Clint’s grasp, which is the worst possible outcome in his opinion. Clint tries not to groan at the loss of physical contact.

“Yeah.” Bucky pauses and his eyes dart around the statement. He’s biting his lip so hard that Clint is afraid he’ll draw blood. “I’ll see you guys back at the tower, alright?”

“Hang on – ” Clint starts, but by the time he’s grasped the fact that Bucky is actually leaving, the man is out of earshot. He’s not quite sure how he fucked this up but Clint is fairly sure this is also somehow his fault.

When he turns to Steve to ask if anything’s up with Bucky, the blonde man looks contemplative and stands up too.

“Sorry, Clint – I think I need to go have a chat with Bucky. You finish up the game, I’ll see you tomorrow at training.”

And so the outing ends with Clint sitting alone, trying to figure out how exactly he’s going to fix this tangled mess of relationships.

* * *

For the next week, Clint can’t turn the corner without bumping into Steve. He’s fairly sure Steve’s not doing it on purpose as with each meeting Steve looks more and more dubious. He probably thinks Clint is stalking him. Bucky is nowhere to be found. Clint is going to have a nervous breakdown, probably.

Beyond that, he simply misses Bucky. He misses bumping into him in the kitchen and having long chats about nothing over coffee; he misses the occasional (treasured) hug, he misses the archery lessons where he could finally touch Bucky without it being weird. The smooth slide of metal over flesh, letting his hands trace Bucky’s biceps and trail down to his hips as he adjusts his position. Clint even misses arguing with Bucky over who drank the last of the chocolate milk (it’s always Bucky, who’s a terrible but extremely committed liar).

After another Steve encounter where the man has begun to look at him with naked suspicion, Clint flees and near-runs into the living room, flopping down on the sofa dramatically. Tony, who has been having a solo Star Trek marathon, glances over at him.

Clint lets out a pitiful moan and smashes his face into Tony’s shoulder in despair.

Tony looks amused. “Not that I don’t love this aggressive cuddling, but what’s up with you?”

“I went out with Steve and Bucky to a baseball game last week.”

“Baseball is incredibly boring, sure, but this seems a touch dramatic.”

Clint looks up at Tony beseechingly. “You don’t understand. I’ve fucked us all up.”

There’s a long moment of silence – Tony is clearly waiting him out. Well, good luck with that. Clint has an iron will and there’s no way he’s going to just blurt out the story of his terrible crush. Clint has resisted far more persuasive interrogators than this. He’s _trained_, for god’s sake.

“You can’t tell Bucky about this, alright?” Fuck.

Tony laughs. “Yeah, because me and him sit up at night and I braid his hair while telling him about all the hot gossip.”

“Fuck off.” A pause. Clint closes his eyes in preparation for his confession. “I’m maybe like…seventy percent in love with him.”

He opens his eyes to see Tony’s reaction, wary of how this is going to go. He probably could have picked a better person to confess to, considering Tony and Bucky’s…complicated history.

Tony looks…confused. “And?”

“Well, it made our relationship pretty fucking awkward.”

He still looks confused and now Clint is beginning to mirror his expression.

“Yeah,” Tony says, slowly, “But why would that make your relationship awkward?”

“Because I flirted with him and I don’t want to get in between him and Steve because they’re so perfect, and getting past these feelings is _hard_, alright, you don’t even know –,” Clint is interrupted by a sharp bark of laughter from Tony.

“You don’t want to get in between him and – right, okay. Sure. Makes sense.” Tony looks delighted and Clint is suspicious – a delighted Tony is a dangerous Tony, in his experience. The other man sits up straighter and steeples his fingers together before fixing Clint with a more serious expression.

“Tell me exactly how it all went down, my dear Hawkeye.”

So Clint does – the sparring, the hospital room, the baseball game, and now the fact that he hasn’t seen Bucky in way too fucking long, okay, it’s like he’s in withdrawal and that’s completely not fair. Clint leaves out the part about his three days of avoiding Bucky because it’s not like that was ruining the man’s life in the same way. It's not as if Bucky thinks about _Clint's _beautiful smile and rocking biceps constantly. Probably daydreams about Steve's shining golden, all-American good looks. Fucking Steve.

“Okay, I have some insights.” Tony reaches over and clasps Clint’s face in his hands. They smell like motor oil and Clint wrinkles his nose. And then Tony slaps him. Gently, but still.

“Number one – and I really want to impress this upon you – you’re an idiot.”

Clint makes a noise of protest and Tony shushes him with a finger.

“Number two, I’m going to help you with this because you’re clearly incapable. I have a plan. And number three, stop assuming things, Jesus Christ."

Clint looks suspicious. “What’s the plan? What do you mean ‘assuming things’?”

Tony claps his hands together and his grin is vaguely terrifying. “Can’t tell you, you’ll hate me then thank me. Don’t worry about it.”

He springs up and winks at Clint. “Gotta get started, no time to waste. But first, find him and ask to hang out like normal friends, because that’s what normal people do.”

Clint scowls. “I’ve been trying, man, he’s hard to find.”

“Maybe for you,” says Tony, smirking. “Jarvis! Where’s the fearsome Winter Soldier right now?”

“He’s in the third floor guest bedroom, sir.”

“You mean this entire time, I could’ve just asked Jarvis where he was?”

“As I said, Barton, you’re an idiot.”

Clint stands up too and makes toward the elevator. Tony calls out after him, “Act like a human being and you’ll be fine!”

As the doors of the elevator close, Clint hopes to god that Tony’s plan is nothing too insane and supervillain-y. He tends to go overly elaborate, but maybe with a delicate matter like this, he’ll tone it down. No one could accuse Clint of not being an optimist.

He steps out the elevator and slows his walk to a regular, steady pace – no need to appear too eager. He stills his twitching hands and knocks on the door to the guest bedroom. There’s no reply. Could Jarvis have been wrong?

Clint decides he might as well go all in on this, and he reaches for the door handle to find it unlocked. As he steps inside, he scans the room. It’s devoid of life but there was clearly someone here recently. A half-drunk cup of chocolate milk sits on the desk next to a battered novel.

Clint sighs.

“You may want to check the vents, Mister Barton.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re watching me?”

Tony’s voice replaces Jarvis’s soothing tones. “Stopping now, don’t you fret. Go crazy.”

At this, Clint takes a deep breath and jumps into the air ducts above the room. He’s smoothly pulling himself up when he spies Bucky, for the first time in much too long.

Neither man speaks. Bucky looks oddly terrified and Clint is struck by how lovely it is to see him in the flesh again, even with the weird circumstances.

Finally, he snaps out of it. “So. I think we should –”

Bucky interrupts him. “Let’s spar!”

“What?”

“Let’s just…spar. It’s been a while.”

Clearly he doesn’t want to talk, so Clint takes the olive branch as what it is and nods.

“Alright. Race you to the room?”

Bucky grins. It’s a little tentative but it’s _there_, and Clint is absurdly grateful that he can still make him smile. “Prepare to get destroyed.”

Clint winks. It feels awkward on his face but seems to reassure Bucky a little. “These vents are my second home, man, try not to embarrass yourself.”

And they’re off. Hopefully to have a good sparring session and move past all this awkwardness without having to talk about it a single time. It’s a foolproof plan.


End file.
